


Templars and Mages, Natural Enemies

by raccooncitizen



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen's perspective, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3106772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raccooncitizen/pseuds/raccooncitizen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinloch Hold and the Gallows left their mark on Cullen Rutherford. Striving to do better on this new path, he doesn't expect to find himself to opening up to a mage and accepting emotions he'd mostly only heard of before. </p><p>Cullen's perspective of DAI's plotline, starting pretty much from the future Herald/Inquisitor's arrival. Will be Trevelyan/Cullen, eventually. Rating will definitely go up too, in due time ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snowflake

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters & plot belong to the amazing writers and developers of BioWare. I'm just playing around. :B

 

The remaining tissue of the lanky, tree-like demon hissed and boiled, dissolving from the commander’s silverite blade and leaving only a small oozy fleshy pod behind.

_Maker, what a tough bastard._

Commander Cullen Rutherford pulled his sword out of the mudded snow and straightened up to assess the battlefield. There were no more signs of demons. The fight was over - for now. But his men were exhausted; bent over and sprawled out on the ground, moaning, breathing heavily and coughing and laughing out of shock and horror over what they’ve just faced. Cullen sighed. These men were still a long way from the hardened templar troops he used to command back in Kirkwall. They were mostly commoners, challenging their own bravery, drawing strength from their faith in the Maker and a hope for a better life and a safe future for their families.

Cullen knew that he could build a strong army to serve the Inquisition, so long as its support and reputation continued to grow. A peace summit had already been underway, a conclave hosted by Divine Justinia V, uniting representatives of the Imperial Chantry, the former Circles of Magi and the Templar Order under the roof of the Temple of Sacred Ashes in the hope of finding a common ground between those factions and bringing an end to the ongoing slaughter all over Thedas.

The explosion of the Conclave had shattered any fragile prospect of peace in an instant. Cullen had witnessed it en route from Denerim to Haven, returning to the Inquisition’s base with a delegation of new agents and recruits. The blast thundered over the Frostback Mountains, reverberating across the land and sent a huge glowing current high up to the sky. A giant breach had formed above the Valley of Sacred Ashes - a menacing, growing hole screaming the end of the world and threatening to swallow it. To Cullen, it was the blow-up of Kirkwall’s Chantry re-enacted, only to a much more frightening extent.

Smaller Fade rifts kept materialising on the surface, spewing out wraiths and demons. Cullen’s men fought them to their best ability, but sadly, there was only so much the reputation and experience of the Inquisition’s former templars could do to keep up morale. And now, of all times, people were desperate for hope. Hope that the Inquisition was equally eager to deliver, but it needed the prospect of hope. A miracle.

Cullen prayed that Leliana was right; that this mage - of course it had to be a mage - who fell out of the original rift could be coaxed into delivering an explanation to it all.

“Good work, soldiers.”, Cullen praised. “Thibault, see that this pod gets to researcher Minaeve. Maker knows she can help us build some resistance against those things.” The recruit saluted in affirmation. A man in Kirkwall’s templar regalia and an inquisition’s cloak approached.

“Lieutenant Raleigh.”, Cullen greeted. “Report.”

“Five casualties, eight wounded, ser. Healing supplies are at about a quarter.”

Cullen squinted. He hated losing good men. “Secure the area, let them take a rest. We’ll be moving as soon as the prisoner arrives.”  
  
“Yes, commander.”

“Even sooner, Cullen.”, a soft and melodic voice exclaimed. A rare sight greeted the commander as he turned on his heel: the Inquisition’s spymaster and Left Hand of the Divine, was, in fact, smiling.

“Leliana.”

“She did it. The prisoner has the power to seal the rifts!”

“Then she will help _willingly_?” He glanced around Leliana, who nodded curtly. His face grew stern. “Where is she?”

“Cassandra is taking her up the mountain path to the temple-”

“The mountain path? No, that can’t be right. That would take far too long. Cassandra would never agree to-”

“The prisoner insisted. She said she didn’t want to risk sacrificing more lives if she could help it.”

Cullen scoffed. “And do you honestly believe that? For all we know she could be possessed. If she did cause that breach I fear not even Cassandra might be able to withstand her power.” He shook his head. “ And we still haven’t heard a word from Hammond’s men!”

“The mage has not been what I expected so far, Cullen. I trust her. You know I wouldn’t say that lightly. The girl is frightened but determined. I think she genuinely wants to help.”

Cullen sighed in resignation. Not that he could do much about it. “What of her mark? Is it stable enough? Will she make the journey?”

“No doubt. She is weakened but it’s not critical yet. I have received a message from Josephine, she requires your immediate presence. Chancellor Roderick is losing patience and wants the Inquisition evicted. He’s growing desperate because Cassandra wouldn’t bend to his will to send her to Val Royeaux. Also, I believe it unnerved him that Cassandra untied her.”

“She untied the mage? Oh, Maker!” Cullen’s templar senses tingled at once. A fraction of a moment later, a slow deep thrumming was sending a chill down his spine.

“Andraste’s tits!”, someone called out, “That’s a new rift!”

“All right. First we deal with this rift. Leliana, you will take Raleigh and the troops to the temple while I return to Haven with the wounded and deal with Roderick.” He turned to his lieutenant. “I need you to bring them all back safe.”

Raleigh saluted. “Of course, commander.”

Cullen turned towards the new rift and pulled his sword, catching the attention of all of his soldiers “To arms!”, he bellowed.

  
***

  
“Commander, the troops are returning!” An excited recruit was panting hard at the door to the general’s tent outside the village.

Instantaneously, Cullen had the young man’s full attention. “What’s the status?”

“Lieutenant Raleigh is holding up the banner. I spotted lieutenant Hammond too, but there’s no sign of the Seeker.”

“Impossible.” Cullen motioned to his second-in-command to continue skimming through reports and mark the locations of newly emerged Fade rifts on the map.

The marching sound grew louder as Cullen approached the smithy; the returning party must have already made it across the Penitent’s Crossing. As the party of soldiers emerged shortly from behind the rocky slope, Cullen blinked. It was indeed his lieutenant leading the men, and not Lady Cassandra.

Never before had The Right Hand of the Divine abandoned her position at the front of the troops - the All-Seeing Eye of her order shining brightly across her chest piece and turning her into a manifestation of the omnipresence of the Divine will.

Before Cullen could jump to conclusions, lieutenant Raleigh proudly lifted the banner, beaming with pride. “The rift at the Temple has been sealed.”, he announced, reaching his commander. “Seeker Cassandra wished to remain at the prisoner’s side. They’re at the back, near the supply wagons.”

“Good work, lieutenant!” Cullen’s soldiers straightened visibly with pride as they passed by their general, their exhaustion palpable beneath a state of elated incredulousness. This was the first good news since the Inquisition’s arrival in Haven, a faint chance to prevent the end of the world.

 

When Cullen finally spotted Cassandra, it surprised him to find her usually cold and menacing expression a little relaxed. In fact, by her standards, and all tragic circumstances considered, she seemed rather pleased.

“Commander.”, she greeted, striding towards him. “Our survivor could be the key. There is yet hope.”

 _Survivor_ , she said. Not prisoner.

Cassandra’s ruthlessness was legendary. As the Right Hand of the Divine she was practically untouchable. She did not tolerate any disrespect of the Chantry laws and codex and was often sent to re-educate the most stubborn charges by any means she deemed necessary. She branded mages - and, tavern tales have it, even templars - with a shocking efficiency. Inhuman is what the commoners called her; ‘the Tranquil Hand’ is what the Order had dubbed her in secret. Cassandra could be a monster - but not without a mind of her own. That much Cullen knew. She didn’t think twice before denouncing the devious beliefs which conflicted with her own moral conviction. For all he knew, openly standing up to Lord Seeker Lambert could not have been easy on her. For that alone she had gained the commander’s utmost respect.

The commander carefully scanned the soldiers for a glimpse of the mage - in vain. “So… she lives?”

“Barely.” Cassandra pointed at a covered supply wagon pulled by a horse behind her. “Maker knows she will pull through.”

“She has absorbed an enormous blast from the rift.”, an uncharacteristically tall, bald elf explained. Despite his oddly plain attire, he carried himself with a grace and dignity and a unique sense of self - a trait seldom found among his kinsmen. This had to be the elven apostate Leliana mentioned in her report. “She passed out right after she sealed it. I believe the mark on her hand stopped growing for the time being, but it is still pulsating and sending shock waves through her body. In any event, she needs to see a healer - quickly. The chances of her recovery are dwindling by the hour.”

“You must be Solas.”

“I am. Pleased to make your acquaintance, commander.”, he nodded politely. “I hope my studies of the Fade will help determine the nature of the threat and find a way to oppose it.”

Just as Cullen expressed his welcome, a young elven girl nearly toppled Solas over in her haste to reach the seeker. Finding her balance, she bowed low in shame. “Forgive me, ser. Lady Cassandra. Master Adan is now ready to receive the lady mage in Ser Balin’s house.”, she squeaked. “Lady Leliana has sent for a healer in Redcliffe. She is also determining the lady mage’s identity. Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?”

“Thank you, Suri. Assist Master Adan and keep me updated on any progress.” Cassandra handed her a few coins and ordered the carter to pull into the stables.

 

The idea of harbouring a mage without identity did not thrill Cullen at all. Stepping closer to the wagon and focusing his attention on the traces of dormant magic inside, his astute templar senses jolted at once. Irregular shockwaves of an alien, albeit not necessarily threatening force were shooting through the prisoner’s body, single shocks colliding and short-circuiting. But there was more. Behind that thick veil of complete chaos, Cullen could sense a faint thrumming aura. Infinitely weaker but steady. It was surprisingly clean. Untainted. Resilient. She was harrowed, Cullen concluded. A Circle mage? This notion calmed him, somewhat.

Cassandra began untying the fastenings of the wagon cover.

“Do you believe her responsible for the explosion?”, Cullen wondered.

The seeker stood and sighed, allowing Solas to take over. “Truthfully, no. There was a vision pouring out of the rift at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Most Holy called out to her. She urged her to run and warn us all.”

Solas sat down next to the unconscious mage and held up her hand, inspecting the mark that basked her in an unnatural yellowish-green light. Intrigued, Cullen took a step forward.

She was clad in simple mercenary gear: an oversized coat was creating bulges from underneath a pair of basic iron pauldrons and long gauntlets. Her rough boots were well-worn but kept in good condition. As the glow of the mark subsided, Cullen found himself surprised at how little her features matched her attire. High cheekbones, a straight nose, full lips and hair that evidently used to be kept together in an accurate bun - now fringy and slightly damp - suggested an aristocratic upbringing. As did her hands - indeed not a labourer’s hands. The apostate looked frail and displaced; a long way even from an enchanter let alone a powerful mage potentially capable of meddling in magic that reached beyond this world.

“I saw that vision with my own eyes, Cullen. I would not have believed it otherwise.”, Cassandra explained. “Our soldiers reported they saw a glowing woman remain behind as she fell out of the sky.”

“And they also believe that to have been Andraste herself.”, a deep, soothing voice declared.

“Varric.” Cullen was mildly surprised. “The last I heard you were free to take your leave?”

“He most certainly still is.”, Cassandra glared at the dwarf.

“Oh, please. There are shitloads of holes in the sky spitting out evil demony things and I happen to be in the thick of the investigation? Not a chance I would let you face them alone! Or Snowflake for that matter.” He nodded towards the unconscious mage. “No offence, seeker, but the whole lot of you do have a slightly intimidating way about yourselves. If she can truly help the Inquisition, her burden will be big enough without you pushing and poking her, believe me. She’ll need a friend.”

Cassandra groaned in reply, defeated.

“Snowflake?”, Cullen wondered.

“That’s what snowflakes do, right? Fall from the sky, look pretty, freeze things. Andraste’s ass, you should have seen how she froze those demons! Bianca was absolutely-” He glanced past Cullen, “Oh, shit!”

“Cassandra! Hold her down!”, Solas cried out. The mage was yet again enveloped in the green glow, her muscles contracting forcibly. The seeker rushed to her side and pinned her shoulders down into the blanket.

Instinctively, Cullen’s hand snapped to the grip of his sword, his templar reflexes primed to cast a holy smite.  
The elf clutched the mage’s palm with one hand and pressed the other into her abdomen, casting what appeared to be a cleansing spell.

Reacting quickly, Varric reached out to stop the commander, who had already frozen in mid-action, understanding. The risk of possibly dealing collateral damage with a draining Templar spell when unknown magic was involved was simply too high.

Solas was now enveloped in the same glow as the young woman, willing his own magic to flow uninterrupted into the woman while evidently fighting to withstand the alien force he was absorbing himself.

“Relax, Curly. This has already happened a few times. Solas knows what he’s doing.”

After a long moment, the mage finally gasped for air, the spasming slowly subsiding. Evidently still unconscious, she fell back into shallow breathing, as if nothing happened. Solas let the healing spell flow a while longer until he dared take a deep breath.

“She has taken it better this time.”, he exhaled, looking up at Cassandra. Beads of sweat were glistening on his scalp.

She nodded, casting an almost concerned glance at the mage. “Let’s get her to Adan.”

“Let me, Cassandra.”, Cullen offered on instinct, as the seeker lifted the apostate’s arm around her shoulder to stem her up but she lifted her hand in dismissal.

“I appreciate the help but she is still my charge, Cullen. Chancellor Roderick is convinced that she created the breach. He wants her executed. So long as I am the only one in this village with a full immunity to magic, we shouldn’t give him any reason to question the integrity of any other member of the Inquisition. Until she wakes up and we decide on how to proceed, Solas and myself should be the only ones in contact with her.”

“Agreed. I will see to stationing a patrol around Balin’s house in the mean time. Keep me updated.”

“Well then. If I’m not needed you’ll probably find me in the tavern.”, Varric shrugged and turned. “I hope Haven has got one.”

Cullen watched Cassandra and Solas carefully lift up the mage and carry her through the village gates. He couldn’t help but be impressed by how warmly the seeker responded to the young woman, who yet remained an unknown entity to them all. The extraordinary amount of trust Cassandra put in her protégé had to stem from a higher conviction. Having witnessed too many of his friends at Kinloch Hold fall victim to these so-called visions, he treated the mention of this particular one, that poured directly from the Fade, with utmost caution. The fact remained, several small rifts were sealed and gone, and that was more than a shimmer of hope. _If_ this mage yet had a chance of surviving Cullen would make sure that she would get it.

Halfway to his tent, Cullen encountered lieutenant Raleigh. “Beg your pardon, ser. I’ve got a list of the fallen soldiers.”

The commander accepted the parchment, skimming through it on the way. Twenty-nine names. Eager soldiers, who committed their swords to helping fight chaos and restore order. Souls, fallen to demons under the banner of the All-Seeing Eye and under his own command. The loss of twenty-nine men was sure to hit the tiny village very hard and place the young inquisition in a delicate position.

So long as the Sunburst Throne remained empty, High Chancellor Roderick’s claims on authority in Haven were baseless. However, as High Chancellor, his reach did extend to high places in Orlais, enabling him to call upon his associates to help him rise to power. His sudden ascent to a temporary Chantry Father through the untimely death of his superiors left him eager to expand on this newfound position. The idea of a good mage - the only one wielding the power to command the rifts and pledging her service to the Inquisition could easily be turned around into a tale of an abomination appeasing its captors while destroying human lives from within. The common villager’s faith was a fickle thing and the power of the Chant not to be underestimated. The inquisition needed to act accordingly. Pre-emptively, and very quickly.

Cullen stopped with a realisation. Perhaps it was a very fortunate thing after all that Garrett Hawke’s storyteller friend decided to remain with the Inquisition. He was about to go search for the dwarf in the tavern when he spotted him by the forge.

 

Varric Tethras had been a well-known figure long before his association with the Champion of Kirkwall helped him surpass his popularity and vault him into the realm of rather well-respected authors. Yet he remained down-to-earth and approachable; and his spontaneous tavern and banquet story-times were legendary among commoners, soldiers, merchants and nobles alike.

The dwarf was humming a tune while skimming through Harritt’s weapon schematics as Cullen strode over.

“Daggers? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use anything but your crossbow in a fight, Varric.”

“Oh, I don’t. Wouldn’t want Bianca to get the wrong idea. But… being away from Kirkwall doesn’t mean I necessarily get to be away from the Carta as well - so I’m getting a look at their newest designs. Harritt is well-connected. Or, maybe it’s Leliana, and he’s just taking credit. Which seems more likely. But I’m sure you didn’t come over to discuss blades. What can I do for you, commander?”

They stepped out of the smithy, walking towards the sparring ground. “Tell me again about the rumours you heard from our soldiers? That our mage was sent to us by Andraste?”

“Well, that’s what they said, or at least something along those lines. Do you want the facts or my manuscript version?”

Cullen smirked. “Facts, for now. What happened, exactly?”

“So we get to the ruins of the temple and there’s this vision pouring out of a sealed rift. There’s snowflake wondering out loud what’s going on and Justinia tells her to run while she can and warn us. This is, in case you’ve wondered, the moment the seeker’s world gets turned upside down. And not only her, I’m sure. In any event she is able to use the power of the mark, whatever it is, to reopen and seal the tear in the sky. And when we pick her up and put her in the wagon there is a group of soldiers gathering around us.”

Varric stopped abruptly. “Seriously, Curly, you should have seen the seeker’s face! Those guys weren’t doing anything wrong, just looking, being curious! Imagine Cassandra looking irate, confused and embarrassed at the same time, I swear I’ve never seen anything like it! It was almost adorable!”

Cullen chuckled a little despite himself. The description of that alone was priceless.

“And Cassandra barks at this one soldier, ‘What is this about?’ The poor guy is so intimidated he loses his voice until another one explains, ‘We wanted to see the Chosen One with our own eyes. We saw her fall out of the sky when she did. She was touched and sent to us by Andraste.”

This was good. So much more than Cullen had dared hope for. “And did they talk about it any more?”

“Couldn’t keep their mouths shut! All the way from the temple. Snowflake is getting herself quite a reputation. I really hope she gets to wake and see it.” He sounded concerned.

“So do we all. But for now, we must see to it that this story reaches all of Haven. Given your special… oratory talents, may I ask you to help see to that?”

Varric raised a slow eyebrow, then broke into a grin. “It would be my pleasure, commander. Although I must say I never would have pegged you for a rumourmonger. Encouraging my corrupting the virginal minds of innocent townspeople with … gossip? My, my!…”

Cullen’s face hardened. “We need all the advantage we can get. Roderick will not play nice. All we know is that he may already have sent for troops to bring the apostate in to Val Royeaux. Right now, and before we know more, the Inquisition must protect her!” Cullen shook his head. “I grew up in a town like this, I know these people, I know their kind. They don’t have much but they do have their faith, and they do believe. They need a miracle, a sign from the Maker to believe that this thing up there will not remain there forever. And they should have it: a messenger sent by Andraste, in the flesh, as real as the sun in the sky and their crops they grow. The Inquisition needs these people’s faith.”

The dwarf sighed in resignation, his tone growing uncharacteristically serious. “I know what’s at stake here, commander. I just dared hope for a second that you may have picked up a slight sense of humour somewhere between Kirkwall and here. I’ll go work my magic.”

Cullen frowned, watching Varric leave. “Thank you.”, he said, watching the dwarf nod from behind. Cullen took a deep breath and continued on his way to his tent. It was high time to assign a patrol for the apostate.  
The mage had better survived.

  
  
____

Haven't written any fanfics in a VERY long time, so sorry if this kicks off a little slow and weighty - I needed to remind myself of the facts of the in-game stuff to merge it with my head canon. Yadda yadda. Will be picking up the pace from now on.

 

Now, next chapter: Wakey-wakey, Trev! You’ve slept enough now. No fun writing about you when you're not even listening!

 

Thanks for reading and your time! -rc xx


	2. Going Rogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for keeping you waiting so long for this; personal issues and four different beginnings and middle parts of this kind of fried my brains… :B
> 
> A HUGE thank you for so many clicks and Kudos - and my lovely reviewers: GilShalos1, szhismine, Jen, Jana and Critter - I really appreciate you taking your time to leave your thoughts; you made my day! xx

_Threnn,_

_Our soldiers require additional weapons if they are to be effective. Scouts have sighted numerous iron ore deposits around Haven. Send out miners to retrieve the metals and arrange transport back to the smithy._

_Commander Cullen_

 

Cullen sprinkled some pounce on the ink, pressed his seal onto the letter and handed it over to the messenger. “Get this to the quartermaster.” As soon as she was gone, the commander leaned back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing himself a moment to breathe. The inevitable exhaustion of a long day was settling into his bones.

Scout Harding had sent word of yet another raided supply convoy outside the north gates of Redcliffe, making it a total of four since the explosion. As if the gory battles between rebel mages and templars weren’t enough, Fade rifts all over Ferelden lured groups of bandits and scavengers out to prey upon frightened travellers. The Inquisition was still small, but watching their outposts simply fall into outlaws' hands was not an option.

Cullen challenged his recruits and pushed them to their limits to help them discover their own strength and sense of pride. And much to their own surprise and absolute delight, the former high-ranked templar even joined them on the training ground. He had sworn to build a loyal and strong army even before the most timely - or untimely, of that he was still unsure - arrival of the apostate with the mark, and Maker knows, he would keep his promise.

 

The evening chant was less than an hour away and the majority of Cullen’s soldiers had already left the training ground. Only the occasional faint clink of blades was cutting through the song of the mountain wind and the eager chit-chat of Ferelden’s native frost thrushes. It was a welcome distraction that triggered distant memories of his childhood. He wondered what had become of his siblings. By the time he joined the templar order, his two year older brother, Brendan, had been an apprentice to the local tanner. His younger sister Vera was assisting the Chantry botanists, and Maria, the youngest, but liveliest, often used to join their father on his travels through Thedas, much to their mother’s dismay.

How much had changed for them since moving to the South Reach? It’s been over ten years that Cullen had last heard of them. After Kinloch Hold, he cut off all contact with his family; their lives were burdened enough without adding his personal horrors to the list. He told himself that once he got better, he’d get back in touch. Weeks turned into months and eventually over two years, until his youngest sister tracked him down in Kirkwall. They’d been writing sporadically ever since. Perhaps now, back in his homeland, Cullen would be able to find an opportunity to pass his family a visit. Or begin to build up the courage to do so, at the very least.

Another clang of duelling swords sent him back to the present. None of this mattered so long as the overall situation remained unstable. He picked up his reports for Josephine and Leliana and stepped out into the Fereldan twilight. A group of some of his men were entertaining Varric by the gates to the village - or was it the other way round? The dwarf had done his reputation more than justice.

Thanks to him, word of the Chosen - a mage given the power to defy and conquer all evil - had spread fast within the first hours of her return to Haven. Already by nightfall, the accused and taunted prisoner had emerged as the manifestation of the Divine will. Since nobody knew her name and some even doubted her mortality, she received a new title: _the Herald of Andraste_. Every messenger, every bird and every merchant that left the little village delivered news of her, so it came as no surprise that first pilgrims and volunteers arrived from nearby villages shortly, desperate and eager to join a holy cause guided to their salvation by the Chosen of the Maker’s bride.

Once woken, the Herald would no doubt co-operate - for the preservation of her life alone, if for nothing else. He only hoped that Cassandra’s and Leliana’s blind trust in her was warranted and prayed that his instinctive templar reflexes would not malfunction should the worst come to pass; in truth, the lyrium withdrawal was wearing Cullen out far more than he dared to admit.

 

He took a moment to observe the few remaining sparring recruits. One soldier’s attention snapped to him as he approached and for a second, she hesitated to block. Her partner’s sword landed a hit, clanking against the side of her chest piece and sending her back a few steps.  
“Dammit, what’s wrong with you?” The other recruit whined, until he turned around. “Ah, figures. Commander!”

“You’ve a strong hand.”, Cullen praised the young man, unsheathing his own sword. “But do not put too much weight onto your front leg. You don’t want to lose your balance should your opponent evade to the side. And remember: your sword arm does not begin at the shoulder.” He lifted his weapon and used the other arm to point and explain the technique. “Use your entire right side, from the hips upward. I need you to be bold while you practise. Strain your muscles, make them remember. They will thank you in a real fight. Understood?”

“Yes sir. Thank you, Commander.”

“And… Robineau, was it? I have seen you block before. You could have deflected this one with ease.” The woman was struggling to keep her nervousness in check, Cullen could tell. Was he really this intimidating to his recruits?

“Apologies, Commander. I… it won’t happen again. It’s, uh… it’s been a long day.”

Cullen’s expression softened a little. His soldiers’ eagerness and dedication reminded him so much of himself. “Then stop. I need you at your best, but there’s a limit to what your body can endure in a day’s work. Sharpening your senses does not happen in an exhausted state.”

The flush on her cheeks must have come from the cold.

 

“Well, that girl is likely not to get any sleep tonight.” Varric grinned from ear to ear as Cullen approached the gates, ready to head for the chantry.

“I told her to take a break.”

The dwarf raised a brow, still grinning. “Do you remember _all_  your recruits’ names?”

Cullen pushed the gate open. “So long as our numbers are still small learning their names is the least I can do. Most of them have never wielded a sword in their life. Learning what it means to be brothers in arms is just as important as being pushed to their limits. On the battlefield, I’m just one of them. They need to trust me, not feel terrified by me.”

“I don’t believe _that_ was her issue, Curly. Anyway-” Varric glanced around swiftly, then lowered his voice. “How is Snowflake holding up?"

Cullen tensed. Did Varric know? And if so, who else did too? “What do you mean?”

“Before you ask - no, your soldiers didn’t spill the beans. Adan was pacing the chantry like a fennec on felandaris earlier; the Seeker hasn’t been seen since rushing into the chantry with a handful of guards; the doors to the undercroft are guarded and Josephine is trying too hard to pretend she doesn't know anything. Can't fool the dwarf.”

Indeed, Varric was way too perceptive for his own good. Cullen nodded meekly. Acknowledging the ringing of the pre-chant bells, they picked up the pace. “There was another attempt on the Herald’s life, but she’s out of danger now. Apparently, a local elf intended to swap Adan’s poultices with toxic salves.”

“What? It wasn’t Suri, was it?”

Cullen shook his head, amused. Cassandra’s elf was more likely to throw herself in a blade’s way or apologise any attacker into fleeing. “It was a self-taught herb mixer. Adan was so furious he took him out himself. The guards had to tear him away so he wouldn’t accidentally kill the elf before Cassandra arrived.”

“I can see it!”, The dwarf laughed. “Teach you to mess with His Herbal Grumpiness.”

The chantry was already brimming with townsfolk when the two entered, the evening chant a few moments away from beginning.

“There you are!” Josephine could barely hide her excitement until they were seated beside her in the front. Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper as the chiming ceded and the people's conversations thinned out. “Leliana’s received word about the Herald’s lineage."

 

***

 

After the chant, Cullen, Cassandra and Varric were the last to enter the war room. Leliana was hovering over the map of Thedas, while Josephine was focused on organising her correspondence. The polite nod of her welcome was hardly noticed as the Seeker claimed everyone’s attention with an ice cold expression on her face.

“Tell me, Leliana, what did you do with the revered mother?”

“What do you mean?”

“She _approved_  of the Inquisition.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Mother Colette requested a verification of the facts given to her in Orlais, so I gave her a  _reliable_  source.” Leliana’s enigmatic smile spoke volumes.

Josephine burst into a stifled cackle. “You did not!”

The spymaster’s lips stretched into a crooked grin. “She had it coming.”

“You are impossible!”

Cullen’s attention shifted back and forth between the two women. For the first time, Lady Montilyet dropped her prim and proper etiquette. While that alone was refreshing, the prospect of this turning into a jolly court gossip round of sorts was not. “Are we missing something?”

Cassandra let out a disgusted groan. “Probably something dirty, by the looks of it.”

“I hope you didn't mind my borrowing lieutenant Raleigh today, Cullen.”, Leliana wondered.

The commander frowned. Her personal request had seemed sudden but he’d been too busy to let her elaborate. Now, there was a feeling of discomfort expanding in his chest. “What did you need him for?”

“Nothing too wild. Mother Colette thought he looked a little troubled, so I recommended him to confess. Raleigh is such a sweet young man. I am sure she gave him her… _blessing_ quite easily.” The spymaster only half-bothered to hide the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Josephine turned red with delight, failing to return to her business-like attitude. “I must say, I did notice the lieutenant had a certain _glow_ about himself when he sang the Chant of Light.”

"I... Maker’s breath, have you completely lost your mind? You sent my lieutenant to..." Cullen was trying to keep his baffled temper in check. "You're the spymaster, are you not? How can you not think of the implications of this to the Inquisition? If anyone were to know of this… if Roderick has already sent a letter to the College of Clerics - and I'm sure he has - it will only be a matter of days until the Chantry will officially denounce us and declare us heretics. After all we've done to secure and defend our position here you'll simply throw it all away?"

“Relax, Cullen. I picked Colette off the streets of Denerim right after the Blight. She's one of my best agents. And while she's here, Roderick _must_ pass his correspondence through her."

“That won't keep him from finding other ways to contact his colleagues in Orlais."

Cassandra raised a hand. “Possibly. However, disregard of Chantry hierarchy and communication channels is not taken lightly. Roderick knows that. He's too proud a bureaucrat to threaten his own position."

Cullen sighed, not actually relieved. "So if Mother Colette works for Leliana, then why send my lieutenant?” He sent the spymaster a disapproving look. “You've all the information she needs."

"He caught her eye. Sometimes, it’s as simple as that. I like to keep my people happy. As do you, Cullen."

“But not at an additional risk to the cause and potential exposure! If Roderick-”

"Be assured, the chances of exposure were kept to an absolute minimum at all times. I made sure of that.” Leliana chuckled, picking up a stack of letters from the chest on the table.

“I’m sure we don’t need to know how.”, Josephine muttered and cleared her throat, still visibly tickled. “As mentioned before, we have received information on the Herald of Andraste.” She knocked on the door to the adjacent room and invited Solas to join them but the elven apostate preferred to remain behind to guard the yet delirious mage. “Just us, then.”, she confirmed. “Leliana, if you would?”

The spymaster stepped up to the map and placed a pin on the south coast of the Free Marches.

Varric looked victorious. “What did I tell you, Seeker!”

“Our Herald is Anna Alexia Trevelyan from the former Circle of Magi in Ostwick. She is the Bann’s youngest child and currently the only mage in the family.”

Cullen’s lingering irritation was blown away in an instant. His attention snapped from the pin on the war table to Leliana’s eyes. _Trevelyan_. Not an unfamiliar name. The noble house was held in high regard by the Chantry and Templar order. It enjoyed considerable political leverage in north-eastern Thedas and used to be a major thorn in the eyes of Knight-Commander Meredith. When she assumed factual reign over Kirkwall three years ago, Bann Dareius Trevelyan of Ostwick did not hesitate to form an alliance with multiple city-states in the Free Marches to monitor and actively oppose Meredith’s endeavours to promote her politics outside the city gates. Cullen had sometimes pondered the reason behind the Bann’s steadfast dismissal and contempt for the Knight-Commander. He always assumed that personal reasons were sure to be at play, but the option of one of Trevelyan's children living in the Circle had never crossed his mind.

“She travelled to the temple alongside her Senior Enchanter Jerall. What I do not understand is why he chose to take Anna to the conclave instead of his First Enchanter.”

“It makes perfect sense.” Cullen thought out loud, his eyes roaming over the map once more. “Her father was hoping she could help broker understanding between all parties. Trevelyan would ensure the entirety of the Free Marches to stand united behind her, mage or not.” He looked back up to find everybody’s eyes on him. “And if her sense for diplomacy is _anything_  like the Bann's she could be truly invaluable to the Inquisition in that regard, too.”

Josephine and Leliana exchanged approving glances.

“Well then, welcome aboard, Curly. Glad to know you won’t smite her the very moment she wakes up.”

“She remains a mage, Varric. I cannot and will not drop my guard around her.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

“Anything else you can tell us, Leliana?”, Cassandra pressed.

The spymaster collected her reports. “No, that’s all for now. My scouts are following up on her harrowing and achievements in the Circle, the relationship to her parents, associates and so on.”

“Good. Cullen, I have an urgent request to make. Solas and I will transfer the Herald back to Balin’s house. We need a full patrol to guard the perimeter over night and tomorrow.”

Cullen frowned. “You want to move her again? Are you sure that’s wise?”

“We’ve had two assassination attempts within these walls in two days. I cannot allow for yet another one to happen and possibly even succeed. Adan assured me the Herald is stable and expects her to wake before the morning.”

Josephine nearly dropped her quill. “For the love of Andraste, that soon? I have to make sure my tailor will have her finery ready by nightfall.”

Varric chuckled. “Trust me, Ruffles. The last time I saw Snowflake she looked perfectly happy wearing mercenary gear.”

“The last time you saw the _Herald_ Cassandra had just picked her up from the undercroft. Lady Trevelyan would never forgive me for letting her daughter walk about in nug skin and druffalo hide.” Josephine glanced at Cullen, “- no offence to Fereldan tailoring. Now, if there’s nothing more to discuss, please excuse me for I must be on my way.”

“And you will have your night patrols within the hour, Cassandra.”, Cullen confirmed.

“Well, if we're done - anybody heading to the tavern later?” The dwarf looked around, hopeful, and eventually let out a defeated sigh and a mumble. “Oh, _do_ I miss the Hanged Man.”

 

 

***

 

 

On the following morning, Varric greeted Cullen on the western trebuchet site.

"Thought I might make myself useful while I'm here. Thought about getting some thoughts down on parchment but, oh well... I'm sure words will flow better once the Singing Maiden gets restocked."

Cullen raised a brow.

"What? Surely  _somebody_ will do something about that, right?"

"I don't believe restocking the tavern is on top of the Inquisition's priority list at the moment, Varric."

"But it should be. You should take a leaf out of Corff - the hero of Lowtown. People loved him."

Cullen had visited the Hanged Man only twice. And there was a good reason for that. "His swill was disgusting."

"Sure, Curly. But he had a range of it. Once your tastebuds got over the poor standard you could treat them with diversity. Flissa only sells Rowan's Rose and Butterbile. Even if you're local you're bound to be allergic to at least one of them."

Cullen chuckled, acknowledging the idea. When he thought about it, the dwarf hadn't seemed quite so bad after all. "I'll mention it to Leliana. Perhaps her agents can procure something for us."

 

When Varric offered to take a closer look at the trebuchet blueprints, he surprised Cullen with a rather profound artificer’s knowledge and expertise.

"The construction is solid but you won't get it to fire further than the end of the lake. Let me try something." Cullen could only watch in awe as the dwarf started modifying the original schematics with a quick and steady hand, modifying them to a Carta standard. He went over the catapults' aiming systems with a frown and improved the plans to give them an edge in range, speed and efficiency.

The sun had almost reached its peak when Cassandra’s self-proclaimed elven servant reached the trebuchet site, crying out the news of the awoken Herald of Andraste. Her excitement instantly spilled over. Cullen felt a tiny wave of relief wash over him, too. He had not dared to imagine what the Herald’s premature passing would mean to Haven’s morale. Closing his eyes, he thanked the Maker that now he did not have to. Construction builders, miners and their supervisors alike dropped their duties and hurried into the village, determined to get a glimpse of the young woman.

_Why did lady Cassandra have her in chains? I thought seekers knew everything?_

_When she looked at me, I swear I could feel the eyes of Andraste see my soul!_

_She is… do you think she looks anything like Andraste herself?_

Crowds of awed, chatting townsfolk were assembled along the main road as Cullen made his way to the chantry. A rather large group of people was standing in front of Adan's house, cheering and calling him to come out. Before the apothecary was given the task to take medical care of the Herald, he had enjoyed his research in blissful silence. Now, not even his rather unsociable nature and quick temper was capable of keeping the people's insatiable curiosity away. Cullen could almost sense the man's frustration through his closed doors.

He walked up the last set of steps to see Chancellor Roderick storm out of the chantry. The cleric cast him a half angry half victorious glare as he passed, muttering something about heresy and impostorism under his breath. Cassandra must have struck a nerve once more.

 

 

While the Herald of Andraste was given some time to freshen up and come to her senses, the atmosphere in the war room was growing tense.

“This is a disaster.”, Josephine whispered in shock. She was re-reading the letter that had arrived from the College of Clerics earlier.

“They can denounce us as much as they like.”, Cassandra insisted. “We are empowered to act upon the Divine’s behalf. The Inquisition does not need the Chantry’s approval.”

Cullen scoffed. “I’m surprised the clerics couldn’t find any more pressing matters to attend than replying to slander letters.”

“I fear this situation won’t change for quite some time.”, the spymaster noted. “Every suitable candidate for the Sunburst Throne died at the Conclave. Even _if_ they were to agree upon a successor now, it would still take several months for the new Divine to complete the initiation period.”

The ambassador sighed heavily. “The moment the people learn about this-”

“It won’t matter as much as you think.”, Cullen interjected. “They understand that the Chantry’s only way of opposing the Breach is through prayer. The Inquisition has already shown them physical results. We already have Haven’s support. Now, we must concentrate on expanding and sealing alliances.”

“I agree.”, Leliana nodded. “Grand Enchanter Fiona has secured refuge for her mages in Redcliffe. They will be eager to help us fight the Breach.”

“That’s out of the question!”, Cullen protested. “It took only _one_ abomination to blow up the entire chantry in Kirkwall. Maker, Anders was a healer and a Grey Warden! Had I suspected - had _anyone_  suspected that a demon lay dormant within him the entire time - no templar would have hesitated to track and strike him down.”

“You cannot extrapolate from one romantic fool to every mage in Thedas. Anders accepted the demon in, Cullen. A possession does not happen without the mage’s consent. You know that. Do I have to remind you how many innocent mages that you knew died protecting themselves from possession at the Fereldan Circle? I was there, too. We all saw the bodies.”

Cullen clenched his jaw, feeling bile rise in his throat from the mere mental image of the bloodied circle halls. He rose from his chair and started to pace. Leliana lowered her voice, a little unsettled by his sudden tension and unexpected reaction. “Fiona’s mages _are_ like those innocents at Kinloch Hold. All they want is to co-exist with us in peace and prove their goodwill.”

“And how many lived?”, he spat, clinging to the haunting memories despite himself. “Two senior mages and two children. Dozens of harrowed mages could not withstand desire! How can you be so certain that Fiona’s apostates won’t-” he was forced to stop in mid-sentence, feeling his throat suddenly dry up.

_Maker… please, no._

He blinked hard, dreading what was to come after the sudden extreme thirst.

“Cullen?”, Cassandra questioned.

His head was growing heavy, pulse increasing and speeding up his breathing. He felt the familiar spinning dizziness forming in the back of his head. Fingers clenched into fists as he tried to resist the craving taking over.

A strong hand gripped his arm, dragging him into the room next door. His head threatened to burst as his mind truthfully questioned the solid state of the walls and furniture. The dreaded light voice in his head.

_Take me. You need me._

And then… a sharp thud as his back collided with the wall. Cassandra’s elbow was pushing him firmly into the stones, helping him support his balance.

_You don’t have to suffer. I will ease your pain._

“No!”, he croaked in pain. “I... don’t… need you.”

“Look at me!”, the seeker commanded, pushing him even further against the wall. “ _Cullen_. Look. At. Me.”

It took all the focus Cullen could muster to extract Cassandra’s voice from the cacophony of his delirium.

“Breathe. You’re safe.”

He did. Long, deep breaths. He rediscovered his willpower to banishing the voices and images from his mind. Feeling the some of the weight of his headache dissipate, calmed a little. He nodded, grateful for Cassandra's presence.

The seeker released her grip on him. Then, a carafe with cold, fresh water was pressed into his hands. He gulped down its entire content, trying to focus on the feeling of being cleansed from within.

“Kinloch Hold.”, he muttered. “It doesn’t usually happen like this, on the spot.”

“I know.”

“Thank you, Cassandra.”

 

 

Josephine looked terrified when the commander re-entered. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you - and I apologise.” He turned to Leliana, who looked equally concerned - and forced himself to continue as if nothing happened. “What I meant to explain: a mage might not even understand the moment they fall victim to possession. Mages and demons draw their power from the same Fade alike; the a mage’s ability to detect a demonic force in disguise will always be impaired. Their harrowing is hardly more than a formality."

"That is not true.", Leliana objected, though her accented voice sounded much softer now.

"I have seen through many harrowings. The mages were always confronted with lesser demon. Never Pride, Desire or Temptation. Templars are needed. We have no beneficial connection with the Fade. Our senses are primed to perceive a threat in its elementary state.”

“Yet the skill set of templars is limited. We do not know what kind of magic created this breach, but it may be crucial to adapt one’s attacks to exploit specific vulnerabilities. That’s not a problem for a mage.”

“We don't need _more_ magic. An army of templars could dispel the magic coming from the Breach. I say we don't play with fire, not with so much at stake.”

"I'll look forward to take _the Herald's_ opinion on that matter into account."

Cassandra was beginning to get impatient. “You’ve both made your points. But now is not the time. We should contact both factions. Leliana, do write to Grand Enchanter Fiona.”

“It’s already done.”

“Good.” She handed a letter to the spymaster. “And send this to Lord Seeker Lucius in Therinfal Redoubt. He’s leading the Fereldan templars for the time being.”

The ambassador sighed. “I suppose it would be inconvenient to suggest both sides to co-operate?”

“Oh, I love how optimistic you are, Josie.”, Leliana smiled, preparing to leave.

The seeker shut the tome of the Divine close. “Let’s begin preparations and call out the Inquisition to the people.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 - 60% done (mostly b/c I had to force myself to split the writing at this point, *teehee*)


End file.
